


In All Things, Patience

by garbage_dono



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: "We Almost Died" Sex, Anal Sex, Caspar and Felix are training buddies, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of canon character death, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: Caspar's pre-battle training "rituals" go above and beyond what Linhardt understands. But in the end they may be for the best.OrCaspar gives himself blue balls to fight better on the battlefield.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 17
Kudos: 260





	In All Things, Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the peeps on discord for enabling me as always lol

When Caspar returned to the monastery after five long years on the road, the first place he visited was the training ground where he carved his name into the bulkiest training dummy he could find. It was an old favorite of his, overfilled with sawdust and heavy enough that it was a workout in and of itself just to drag it out of storage, but that was how Caspar operated. The bigger and tougher and heavier his opponents, the harder he hit and the stronger he grew.

That hadn’t changed from their academy days. If there was anything Caspar could do to make himself stronger, no matter how hard or how unpleasant it was, he would find a way to do it. He could handle whatever was thrown at him and knock it down into the dirt with a war cry. It was true of his training, and it was doubly true for the battles they faced.

A good thing, too, because their battles were getting more difficult, more dangerous, more taxing as the war dragged on.

“You’re hitting harder than usual,” Felix mentioned as Caspar watched sawdust pour from the training dummy’s stomach onto the stone. So much for that one. He’d have to find a new target if he didn’t want to waste time patching this one up between blows. Leonie could only mend these things so many times before they were more patch than opponent.

Caspar shot him a grin. “Ya think?”

“I do.”

He watched as Felix squared his shoulders, conjuring sparks of thunder magic to his fingers before loosing them in a deadly beam that grazed the edge of the target on the other end of the courtyard. Felix cursed under his breath. “That’s a Thoron spell right?” Caspar said.

“Tch…it’s meant to be.”

“Looked like one to me. You’re getting good at that.”

“You don’t have to try and butter me up,” Felix insisted as he pulled off his gloves, flexing his fingers to ward off the residual tingling that often came with reason magic spells. “The professor keeps insisting that I try and focus on magic in lieu of the bow, and I don’t plan on getting myself or anyone else killed because I can’t hit a simple standing target.”

“I’m not _buttering you up,_ ” Caspar huffed. “I can barely manage a simple fire spell if you put a knife to my throat. Besides, you complimented me on my form.”

“I wasn’t complimenting your form. I was stating a fact.” Focusing on the target ahead once again, Felix drew in a breath and conjured another gleaming bolt of thunder magic. This time it hit its mark, three inches or so shy of the center. He groaned. “And hitting harder isn’t necessarily a good thing by the way.”

Caspar was halfway through trying to prop up the poor abused dummy just enough to get at least a few more bouts out of it before he turned to look at Felix again with a frown. “In what universe is hitting harder a bad thing?”

“There’s a fine line between _hitting hard_ and _being reckless._ A lot of the time, you do both.”

“I’m not being reckless! We’re marching for the Great Bridge of Myrddin in a week. I’m gonna need all the strength I can get. I take my training seriously, ya know. Same as you.”

“Nobody’s saying you don’t take your training seriously. You’re here more than almost anyone else. I can respect that.”

“So…was _that_ a compliment?”

“Again, just stating a fact.”

“Okay, well you’re here just as much as I am, and that _is_ a compliment.” With a grunt he got the training dummy upright again, kicking as much of the saw dust and straw out of the way of his feet as he could. “So you’ve got to understand better than anyone that training goes way beyond just hitting _dummies-_ “

Arm cocked back, war cry scratching his throat, Caspar brought his gauntlet down on the dummy’s head, sending it collapsing into the stone as the wooden frame inside it snapped. Caspar panted, wiping his brow as Felix blinked. “Congratulations,” Felix told him, “You broke another piece of training equipment.”

“It was practically out of commission anyway.” He chose not to mention the copious number of singed spots on the target Felix was using – so many that he could barely make out the painted rings on its face anymore. “I can’t help hitting harder. With a big battle coming up, I have to channel my strength as well as I can.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Come on, Felix – there’s gotta be things you do to kick your training up a notch when you need it. I cover Leonie’s kitchen cleaning duties in exchange for some of the cured meats from her hunting. Sometimes I jump in the lake first thing in the morning to give my body a good wake-up shock. Or…ya know…other stuff…”

Felix rose a brow. “ _Other stuff?_ ”

“Yeah. Just…stuff. Stuff to keep my body in top form for training. Keep me focused.” Caspar kept his gaze on the defunct training dummy, getting to work clearing up the sawdust and sagging cloth. “Before a big battle I have to make sure I don’t let myself slip up, right? If I’m gonna channel all my energy into my fighting when I need it, I can’t get distracted by anything else.”

Felix looked like he was appraising him, not saying much more as he turned toward the target again. He glanced down at his hands and glared at the wooden slab on the other end of the training ground, lips downturned in a slight frown. “Dunking yourself in the lake in the middle of the Lone Moon is a good way to give yourself pneumonia, and then you’d be of no use to anyone.”

“Nah, the trick is drying off right away and then going straight to train. I do it all the time, and I haven’t gotten sick yet. Maybe you ought to join me one morning.” After a moment, Caspar grinned and added, “Might help your aim.”

Felix already had thunder magic crackling at his fingertips when he turned to meet his eye again, and Caspar wondered if he was about to regret that last quip, but a moment later Felix let out a huff and said, “Maybe.”

* * *

That evening Caspar got himself a bath – a hot bath, not a dip in the frigid lake this time – and all but collapsed onto his bed, muscles aching from his day’s training. The barely-defined lump under the blankets tucked against his side shifted until Linhardt’s head popped out, eyes narrowing. “You woke me up.”

“Sorry.” Caspar turned on his side, smiling as he snuggled down under the blankets with him. As much as he could with Linhardt hogging most of them anyway. “I wound up training later than I planned and had to beg Ashe to let me into the kitchen for some food since I missed dinner.”

“You? Missing a meal? Unheard of.”

“I know,” Caspar groaned. “But I just lost track of time. Felix and I got to sparring and that guy just doesn’t let up. Even got me in the ribs a few times with a couple of jabs.” He reached down to massage the bruise he was sure to have by the next morning, and Linhardt’s eyes followed his hand. “Least he wasn’t using a sword. He could probably filet me like a Teutates pike if he wanted.”

“He wouldn’t gut you so eagerly. You’re still an ally to him, even if you are from the Empire.” He let out a sigh, resting his head on Caspar’s chest without a second thought.

After a moment’s pause, Caspar said, “I think he might come with me to the lake tomorrow morning.”

“You mean that awful habit you’ve developed of stripping down and jumping into freezing cold water before sun-up?” Linhardt groaned. “Glad you found someone else crazy enough to partake in that.”

“Hey, it’s not crazy! It helps wake me up!”

“Have you tried black tea?”

“I have my way of doing things when I’m gearing up for a battle, ya know.” Caspar ran his fingers through Linhardt’s hair with a sigh, reveling in the warmth of him pressed up against his chest. It made heat coil in his stomach and a flush spread across his face, and he gently pushed Linhardt’s head back onto the pillow before standing up again.

Linhardt pouted. “Where are you going?”

“Just-“ He groaned. “Ugh…maybe I ought to go for a dip in the lake now instead of waiting till morning.”

“My my, Caspar – is my just being near you getting you riled up that easily?” Linhardt asked, a playful lilt to his voice, and Caspar pouted.

“ _No!_ Yes…maybe. I-“ He lowered himself back onto the edge of the bed, drawing a steadying breath. “This kind of stuff was a lot easier before we started…ya know.”

“Fucking?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Caspar choked.

Linhardt sprawled back on the bed again, seemingly perfectly content to drift right back to sleep without giving Caspar’s reaction a second thought. But he spoke up again: “I can’t even begin to understand all these _rituals_ you’ve come up with before a battle. Eating smoked squirrel meat and jumping into cold water in your underwear and denying yourself any sort of physical release…I don’t think I’d manage it.”

“Squirrel meat’s not that bad ya know.”

“Maybe, but honestly Caspar, getting yourself all pent up like this doesn’t seem healthy.”

“Yeah, well…we’re in the middle of a war. There’s a lot of stuff about it that’s _not healthy._ ”

“You may have a point,” Linhardt sighed. “Far be it from me to try and convince you to stop. I just don’t see why making yourself miserable is supposed to make you stronger.”

“I’m not just making myself miserable, Lin! It’s all about…I dunno, maintaining control of my energy and all that! Mastering my own domain-“

“Honestly?”

“It keeps me sharper,” he insisted. “When I’m fighting it…it gives me this boost that can get me through anything. Makes me more _focused._ ”

“You’re saying that being horny makes you more focused in battle?”

Caspar could feel his face going pink, and not just from embarrassment. “In a way…yeah.”

“Well-“ Linhardt shrugged. “If that’s what works for you, I won’t stop you. Though I still firmly believe that an orgasm or two would hardly cost you your life-“ Caspar bit his lip. “Do try not to overdo it though. If you get carried away with all this boundless _energy_ you’re storing up you’ll burst.”

In a choked voice, Caspar pleaded, “Don’t talk to me about _bursting_ right now…”

“Would you prefer I slept in my own room for now?”

“No!” Caspar insisted, all too quickly. “No, you’re…you’re already all comfortable. And you already walked up the stairs anyway. You can stay. I want you to stay…”

After all, he hated the idea of missing out on even one night sleeping next to Linhardt when the battles looming ahead were more dangerous than anything they’d faced before. But he didn’t say that. Didn’t focus on it.

Linhardt lifted the blankets to let him slide under them, and Caspar drifted off to sleep more quickly than he’d expected.

* * *

“Linhardt,” Mercedes offered with a smile. “Are you here to pray?”

Linhardt dropped down into one of the pews nearest to the front of the cathedral. “Not particularly,” he said. “Actually, I came here to read. Oddly enough, I find it easier to concentrate here than in the library much of the time.”

She offered him a soft smile. “The goddess’s presence can be a very soothing one.”

“No, actually I think it has something to do with the acoustics. The library is just so stuffy that sometimes my thoughts feel like they’re trapped. Not to mention the dust.”

Mercedes giggled as she turned toward the pile of rubble that half-obscured the great stained glass windows at the front, seemingly undeterred by the damage to the ancient building in her prayers. “That too.”

They sat in amicable silence for some time. This was one thing that Linhardt had always liked about both Mercedes and this old cathedral – the silence most often carried with it a sense of comfort instead of just feeling like it was waiting to be filled.

 _Waiting to be filled…_ Seemed Caspar wasn’t the only one who was _pent up_ right about now.

Mercedes must have noticed the groan he let out, because she turned to face him once she’d finished her prayer. “Would you mind if I asked you a question, Linhardt? It might be a little bit of a personal one.”

“Not at all.”

“Is something going on between you and Caspar?” Linhardt glanced up from his book, finding Mercedes still smiling at him, not now with a glint of worry in her eyes. “You two have always been so close, but it seems like the closer we get to this next battle, the more…strained you are.”

“We seem…strained?”

“I realize that the Great Bridge of Myrddin is near Bergliez territory. I wouldn’t blame Caspar for having reservations about going there while allied with the Kingdom, or you for feeling conflicted about potentially having to fight your friends from the Empire.”

Linhardt almost wanted to laugh. As if either he or Caspar would second-guess their decision to side with the Kingdom given the circumstances. “I’m sure that Caspar is very much hoping _not_ to run into his father, but that’s not what’s going on.” He sighed. “Though there _is_ something going on, and in comparison it seems rather…well, ridiculous sounds like the right word.”

“If it’s anything you want to talk about, I’m happy to listen.”

“To be honest, I highly doubt there’s anything you could do to help. I don’t mean any offense of course, but…well it’s just that it has less to do with either of our families and more to do with just the two of us. More specifically what we _do_ together. Or what we’re…not doing.”

Mercedes didn’t miss a beat, nodding sagely with her hands folded in front of her dress. “Ah, I see. Some kind of _intimate_ problem the two of you are having, I suppose?”

“In a way.” Linhardt closed his book, letting it rest on his lap. “Caspar has this ludicrous idea that if he denies himself physical release leading up to a battle, it’ll make him more capable in combat. It’s hardly new for him, but lately he’s been taking it…a bit far in my opinion.”

“Oh dear,” she mused. “Are you feeling neglected?”

“I understand he has his rituals and I’m hardly going to get in the way of them. Arguing about it is just too much effort. Though don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly ecstatic over the fact that he hasn’t touched me in nearly two weeks now.”

“That does sound frustrating.”

He sighed, shoulders drooping. “That’s one word for it.”

“Have you tried telling him how you feel? He may feel differently about it if he realizes it’s affecting you too.”

“Considering that Caspar’s boundless confidence may very well be what keeps him alive until the end of this war, I think I’d rather just grin and bear it.” Linhardt let his hands rest neatly on the book on his lap, staring down at it and toying with the idea of opening it again. But now that his mind was starting to wander, he doubted he’d be able to concentrate on it. “Don’t let me interrupt your praying.”

“I was finished anyway. And for what it’s worth, Linhardt, I think you’re a very thoughtful person.” Her smile was warm and genuine, more comforting than most. “I’m sure this will all get worked out. One day this war will end, and goddess willing, neither of you will have to worry about the other going to battle ever again.”

He could only hope.

In the grand scheme of things, a little discomfort was a small inconvenience.

* * *

The battle at Great Bridge of Myrddin was a anything but an easy one. Ladislava was a tough opponent in her own right, not to mention the demonic beast prowling up and down the length of the bridge and the unease that came with being on the receiving end of Ferdinand and Lorenz’s offensive tactics.

Caspar hadn’t been there when they fell. Maybe that was for the best. But the battle still left a knot in his chest when he thought back on it, even when they’d made it back to the monastery. He could still remember it – the clash of metal and the smell of blood and the sound of Linhardt crying out as an enemy soldier raised her axe to end him-

Caspar had made it in time. Thank the Goddess. But even remembering it now made him shudder.

Linhardt must have noticed the way Caspar’s arms tightened around his middle as they slid under the covers together, Caspar’s nose pressed hard against the nape of Linhardt’s neck. “I’m alive,” Linhardt insisted. “Dwelling on it is only going to drag you down.”

“I know.” Caspar buried his face further into Linhardt’s sleep shirt. “Just don’t like how close you were to-“

“Close or not, I’m still in one piece.” Linhardt turned over to face him. “And so are you, for the record. If I wanted to join you in your lingering on the past I could point out that you almost got an axe to the skull coming to my rescue.”

“I wasn’t gonna die that easy.”

“Thankfully.” Linhardt’s arms draped easily over Caspar’s shoulders, drawing him in close enough that Caspar could smell the soap on his skin from where he’d washed off the blood and dirt. “But if it’s all the same I’d rather not think about you dying right now.”

Caspar’s hands found Linhardt’s hips, and he swallowed thickly. “Hey…you remember what we talked about a while ago? About…my rituals?”

“Are you going to tell me that it’s all thanks to you storing up all that _energy_ of yours that you were able to keep me from being cleaved in two?”

“No,” Caspar sputtered. “No, not that. I mean…it’s kind of about that, but…I was just thinking, if something had gone wrong…our last time could have been – well, it would have really been our _last time,_ and our last time wasn’t even all that _good-_ “

“You think?”

“I jerked you off in the bath house.”

“I thought it was pretty enjoyable.”

“Well _yeah,_ but it wasn’t…” He groaned. “All I’m saying is I don’t have any plans to die in this war. But I also don’t want to miss out on anything, you know? Sure, I have to train hard and I can’t afford to let myself slip, but maybe…maybe denying myself all the time isn’t the way to do it. And I-“

Everything after that got lost in a hum as Linhardt smashed their lips together, clinging to Caspar’s shoulders, legs tangling with his under the blankets. “Stop talking,” he breathed. “Talk more after, but right now-“

Caspar barely needed another second to consider it before kissing him again, pressing him onto his back, straddling him easily. Their kisses were messy, needy, desperate – Caspar’s hands clumsily wandered over every inch of Linhardt’s body, no goal in mind, just aching to remember how he felt. Goddess, it had been _weeks_ since they’d done this, and now that Linhardt was squirming under him Caspar had no idea how he’d even made it that long without combusting.

Linhardt tugged off his shirt and wriggled out of his pants, dropping them unceremoniously over the edge of the bed before pawing at Caspar’s. “Way ahead of you,” Caspar breathed with a wide smirk, and he was naked before Linhardt had the chance to complain about making him wait even a second longer.

It was almost euphoric, kissing him again with nothing between them, Caspar settling between Linhardt’s eagerly parted legs and groaning when his half-hard length dragged across the soft groove between Linhardt’s inner thigh and hip bone. Embarrassing as it was, he could have easily come just from this, and it would have felt like shaking hands with the goddess herself. But there was more to his desire than just the need for release – he was burning up with it, needing to feel every bit of Linhardt that he could. To be inside him. To feel him come too.

He sealed his lips against the side of Linhardt’s neck and growled, “Wanna fuck you…”

Linhardt shuddered. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?” But his hand was already fumbling in the dark for the nightstand, searching for the bottle in the drawer there that had gone unused for _far_ too long.

Caspar grabbed it from Linhardt’s hand the moment it was in reach, practically clambering down Linhardt’s stomach and pressing a long, hungry kiss to his ribs as he poured some of the bottle’s contents onto his fingers. More than he would have liked got all over Linhardt’s skin and the sheets too, but they could deal with that later. Much later. For now, he was content to ignore it entirely and focus on the task at hand.

Namely, dropping plenty of kisses along Linhardt’s inner thigh as he pushed his leg back, his free hand pressing slick and eager between Linhardt’s cheeks and-

“ _Cold-_ “ Linhardt squeaked.

Caspar couldn’t help but snort, making his next kiss to Linhardt’s knee a bit more gentle, apologetic. “Sorry,” he said, but the oil was already warming up fast, Linhardt clenching desperately around his finger. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Linhardt let out a soft moan that sounded like a “yes” noise to Caspar’s ear, hand squeezing Caspar’s biceps as his neck stretched back against the pillows. That alone was enough to make Caspar’s heart pound, his cock already hard and leaking against Linhardt’s hip. Goddess help him, if he came before he even got inside of him, Caspar would never forgive himself.

They stopped talking for the most part – aside from Linhardt gasping “ _There_ ” when Caspar’s fingers curled in just the right spot, or “ _More_ ” to urge him to add another. It was torture, pure _torture,_ stretching him out, slicking him up with his fingers when the heat in his lower belly was throbbing hard enough to make him moan. It took everything in him not to rut against the sheets, because he knew if he did this would be over far too soon, and there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to savor the feeling of sinking inside of him.

How long he’d last after that was up for debate, but Caspar wasn’t thinking quite that far ahead.

Linhardt’s hands had settled on the back of Caspar’s neck, tugging him down to press their foreheads together as his mouth hung open to let out all of his quiet little pants and sighs. His eyes were lightly closed, his face flushed pink, hair spilling down over his shoulders.

“You’re really beautiful, Lin,” Caspar heard himself saying, and Linhardt’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hm?”

“I said you’re beautiful.”

“Mm…” Linhardt hummed, a smile tugging on his lips as he pulled Caspar in for another hungry, messy kiss.

Caspar’s hand was shaking as he pulled it from between Linhardt’s legs a moment or two later, smearing oil over Linhardt’s hip bone when he lined himself up. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, feel the flush in his face extending down over his neck and chest until he thought he was going to catch on fire right then and there. He looked down only long enough to press against Linhardt’s entrance and then fixed his gaze on the wall, lip firmly caught between his teeth, all too convinced that if he watched himself sinking into Linhardt’s body he wouldn’t last more than a second.

Even so, the feeling of it was almost enough to make him lose his grip. Linhardt’s fingers curled against the nape of his neck, knees squeezing encouragingly on either side of Caspar’s hips. A long, breathless, broken moan echoed through the small dormitory room.

Oh, Caspar realized, that was him.

And Linhardt was laughing. Just a quiet little chuckle, body shaking enough to make Caspar shudder. “That sounds like it felt good.”

“Sh-shut up,” Caspar said with a pout, burying his face in the crook of Linhardt’s neck and giving in to his body’s _screaming_ desire to rock his hips. “Mm…but yeah…you feel… _goddess,_ Lin, you feel incredible…”

Linhardt just hummed, hands skimming down along Caspar’s body to rest on his ribs, fingers brushing his own knees where he’d drawn them up to cradle Caspar’s waist. “Harder,” he breathed.

“Lin…I can’t-“

“For goodness’ sake, Caspar – you’ve been pent up for weeks. If you need to come, then come, but stop holding back and _fuck me._ ”

He drew a shaky breath when he was finished talking, like he’d surprised himself with his own bluntness. But it snapped something inside of Caspar, stoked something that clouded over his mind and took control of his hips to make him _thrust._ Linhardt gasped and gripped at him, words of praise getting lost somewhere between his lungs and Caspar’s ears as his nails dug into Caspar’s skin.

Caspar could barely breathe, one hand braced on the headboard and the other tucked behind Linhardt’s knee. From the second he started to move, he felt like he was on the verge of coming, but that peak hadn’t hit. Like a wave swelling and swelling without cresting, burning inside of him until he could barely handle it. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. And at the center of all of it was _Linhardt,_ holding him and praising him and loving him and _alive_ and _perfect_ and-

It hit him so hard he saw stars, his mind going blank, vision nothing but white, and when he collapsed on top of Linhardt he felt like he’d fallen from the top of the Goddess Tower.

They lay there for a few long moments, panting and shaking. And in a fleeting moment of clarity, Caspar tried to muster up the words to ask Linhardt if he had come too, but all that came out was a garbled mess of nonsense that made Linhardt snort out a laugh.

“I think,” he breathed with an easy, sated smile still plastered on his face, “We both needed that.”

“Nh…” was all Caspar could manage in reply.

When he’d finally found the strength to move again, Caspar hissed as he pulled out of Linhardt, halfway impressed by just how much of his release pooled on the sheets between Linhardt’s legs when he did. Linhardt grimaced, albeit fleetingly. “What a mess,” he sighed. “Ah well…we can clean up later…For now, I just want to sleep.”

Caspar managed a nod, arms tightly wrapped around Linhardt’s middle. A few minutes of silence passed between them as their breathing slowed and their sweat cooled, and he finally managed to speak: “Lin…”

“Mm…” Barely awake.

What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t to think about how any time could be their last time? That he was terrified losing this – losing him? That he threw all he had into his training because it felt like the one thing in the world that he could still control?

Instead of any of that, Caspar just pressed his nose against Linhardt’s temple, pressing a kiss there and breathing deep. “I love you.”

He could feel Linhardt’s eyes on him despite his own being closed. And the last thing he heard before he finally drifted off was Linhardt saying the very same back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> INTSYS Felix + Caspar and Mercedes + Linhardt support conversations where


End file.
